


a midsummer night's summerteen romance

by sburbanite



Series: Choose your own Epilogue [3]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Awkward Dates, Dave trying to be smooth, M/M, New Earth, Post-Canon, Post-Sburb/Sgrub, Romance, Sex on the Beach, gratuitous fluff, self indulgent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-07
Updated: 2016-07-30
Packaged: 2018-07-12 22:24:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7124716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sburbanite/pseuds/sburbanite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dave decides to take Karkat on a date involving night-flying, romantic clichés and some much-needed privacy. His plans are about as well thought-out as you might expect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mostlyharmless](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mostlyharmless/gifts).



> This is what happens when you invoke "Dark Sburbanite", apparently.

Your name is Karkat Vantas, and you feel a little sick. 

It doesn’t matter how steady Dave tries to keep his flight-path, the wind has other ideas. Being buffeted in neck-snapping up-draughts and gut-wrenching down-draughts doesn’t seem to be bothering Dave, but then again, how would you know? Even craning your neck as far around as possible you can barely see his face, and besides, the asshat is flying through the pitch-black night with his fucking shades on. Twice, _twice_ , you have nearly been unceremoniously pasted against a treetop that came looming out of nowhere like a shadowy sharks-fin, and he’s been warned in no uncertain terms that if there are any more near misses you’ll turn this idiotic idea of a date around and drive it the fuck back to New Cantown. It doesn’t matter that you’re not the one with the power of flight, because if anyone knows where the master controls on this airborne douchebag are, it’s you. Right now, you have the basket he gave you in a death grip so tight your knuckles are almost the colour of his skin, and you know he doesn’t want to find out what’ll happen if you transfer that grip to the warm area pressing pleasantly against your ass. If it wasn’t for Dave’s arms holding you vice-tight around your chest, letting you know there’s no way on New Earth he’d ever drop you, you’d be losing it right now. 

Losing it even more than you are, that is. Hopefully by the time you land you’ll still have some teeth left, because biting down on every screech of surprise at an unexpected lurch in order to spare Dave’s feelings is wreaking havoc with your dental health. 

You have to admit, though, that the view is nice. Dave wanted to go higher, to give you a panoramic view of the majesty of the landscape rimed with silver by the light of the double moons Jade installed to make the Alternians feel at home. It’s pretty enough from this altitude, though, and you don’t feel the head-swimming pull of vertigo quite so strongly. The lake you’re currently flying over is so calm it’s like a gigantic mirror, still enough to see your own shadows like holes in the moonlight as you glide over its surface. The air is calmer here, away from the coast that keeps the breeze blowing through New Cantown, and you might almost be able to get behind this flying thing. Almost. 

“We will now be beginning our descent into Romance Central, so make sure to return your expectations to the upright position and prepare to be wooed like a chick in a movie with a guy leaning on something on the poster.” 

“Dave, what the fuck are you doing?” 

“Please keep all pants buckled until we come to a complete stop, and thank you for flying with Strider Airways. We hope you remember to fill out a compliment card after your world has been sufficiently rocked.” 

“Seriously?” you ask, because this is the opposite of romantic. 

“Mind your step as you exit my manly embrace.” 

“Idiot.” You’re grinning. You can’t help it. 

OK. Maybe it’s a little cute. It’s also cute the way he sets you down so gently, without so much as a bump. His breath tickles your ear as he lets you go, and you know he’s doing his smug little silent laugh. 

“Hmm. So far you’re looking at two out of five hats, Dave. I mean, the in-flight entertainment of ‘almost losing a walkstub because we collided with a tree’ left a lot to be desired. The pilot was kind of a douche and I still haven’t had my in-flight meal.” 

“Plenty of time for that later,” Dave says, waggling his dumb, gorgeous pale eyebrows suggestively. You can feel your face turning red and the desire to hide the blush is overwhelming. 

“Oh, is that so?” you force out, reverting to your standard grumpy defense, “because right now I’m not feeling hungry for that particular delicacy.” 

Dave snorts, because he knows you’re full of shit. As if you’ve ever passed up the opportunity to hear him scream your name while your mouth is blissfully occupied. Lately, though, you do have to admit it’s been a while since you’ve heard…that. The walls of the can-homes are awfully thin, and while you know Dirk is gone so fast he leaves a cartoonish puff of dust every time the two of you retreat to Dave’s room, it kind of kills the mood to know that he knows what you’re planning on doing in there. Neither of you are quiet during sex (you insist that Dave is louder, he says otherwise. In your heart you know he’s probably right), and you know that Dave’s history makes him uneasy about the idea that his ecto-brother might be loitering around somewhere uncomfortably close to home. Dirk wouldn’t, of course. He wouldn’t actively eavesdrop on you. You’re 99% positive of that. 

Unfortunately that 1% turns out to be one hell of a bulge-block. 

Doing anything in your own apartment is out of the question, since Terezi's sense of smell just doesn't turn off no matter what she says. Too many inappropriate comments on the meteor showed you that much. You never thought you'd miss an echoing warren of metal tunnels in a cold, dark, space-rock so much. At least you had privacy there. 

So, now, here you are. Under the stars and the double-moonlight and the slowly-drifting silvery clouds. There’s enough light to see by, but Dave takes the basket from you and retrieves a bag of what turns out to be tea-lights. It takes home a minute to arrange them to his liking, all while you stand there like a moron and watch. 

“Do you want some help with lighting all of those, Romeo?” you ask. 

Dave jumps like he’d forgotten you were there at all. You swear he has the attention span of a small, orange freshwater swim-creature. There’s no way you’re going to admit that the Alternian for “goldfish” is “goldfish”, even in the privacy of your own think-pan. 

“Oh, uh, sure,” Dave rubs at the back of his head, where you notice his hair is actually trimmed. He got Kanaya to give him a haircut. You suddenly realize you should have made more of an effort than just wearing the newest set of your usual outfit. 

“I kinda wanted to set this stuff up before I brought you here, but I wasn’t totally sure I could find this exact beach again and flying around in circles looking would have been the opposite of smooth. I mean, if I’d lost all of this shit then we’d just be sitting in the dark and I’d have felt like a fucking idiot knowing there were like a hundred candles somewhere in the woods just waiting for some dumb animal to come and eat ‘em. Wax has gotta be bad for anything’s digestive system.” 

You wait for him to finish rambling and then ask politely for the matches. 

“FUCK!” he yells. You think you can see where this is going. 

Dave roots around frantically in the basket before patting his pockets. He looks so pathetic when he realizes he forgot to pack them that you can’t help but wrap your arms around him. 

“Sorry,” he mutters, “the one thing I needed to remember and I forgot like a fucking idiot. This was meant to be like one of your cheesy-ass rom-coms but I guess it’s just gonna be us having a picnic in the pitch black like a horror movie cliché. I mean, at this rate the second we start mackin’ on each other Jason is gonna pop out of the woods and chop my head off, so at least I won’t have to live with the shame for long.” 

“Dave,” you flip him around by his shoulders so you can look into his face. For someone who’s confessed to finding your species way more attractive than his own, he always forgets just how alien you are. “I’m nocturnal, you ass. I can see a speck of dust on a buzzbeast’s wing from a hundred meters with this amount light. And besides,” you carefully flick his shades up onto the top of his head with one claw, “If you ever took these fucking things off you’d know it wasn’t even that dark.” 

His eyes look brown rather than red in the moons-light, but the way they crinkle at the corners when he smiles is still beautiful. Every expression that slides across his face is a gift, and you feel a hot, tight pang of possessiveness at each and every one. It’s not that you’re glad he can’t show that emotion around other people, but you’re incredibly proud that he _can_ around you. 

“Hey,” he says, still smiling that soft little smile. The stars are laid out above you like a canopy of glowbugs dancing just for the two of you, and the pale light catches in Dave’s hair like spun silver. 

“Hey yourself,” you reply, and pull him in so you can kiss him softly and slowly, savouring his breath on your skin and the way his fine, smooth hair slides between your fingertips. You don’t want to let him go, but he peels you away from him after a few breathless, warm minutes. 

"What is it? I don't see any serial killers so it can't be that." 

“Nah, dude, I think we're safe from horror movie justice" he says, smiling that goofy smile of his, "It's just, not to, like, disrupt the whole ‘making out by moonlight’ experience, but I wondered if you wanted to do one of those things from your movies…specifically the one where the two leads,” he moves a little closer, brushing piece of your hair out of your eyes, “decide to go swimming…without any bathing suits.” 

The little shiver that runs down your posture-pole is electric. This really is like a stupid movie about stupid adolescents being dumb without any consequences whatsoever. It’s perfect. 

“OK,” you grin. 

Dave looks surprised, not to mention excited. You guess he thought you’d try and be sensible. 

“OK, rad, uh, OK, just a sec, I gotta get the blanket so we have somewhere to go when we get out.” 

He fumbles with the large, chequered rug, before spreading it out on the sand a good distance from the water. His shirt goes flying immediately after, and you have to stifle a laugh. 

“Get your kit off, Karkat,” he yells, fiddling with his fly. 

“Oh no, you don’t, Strider. If we’re doing this movie-style then you don’t get to see anything until we’re ready to jump in. Come over here and get naked with your back turned.” 

Dave laughs and jogs toward you with his pants halfway down, still irritatingly steady on his feet. You wait to turn around until his back is turned, and you only peek a little bit. OK, a lot. You know he’s peeking too and it sends another one of those delicious thrills running through you. When both of your clothes have been kicked away onto the blanket, you take his hand and face him again, getting an eyeful of Strider and trying to hold back from jumping him like a desperate teenager. An _even more_ desperate teenager. 

“You ready?” he asks. He looks nervous. 

You don’t answer because you’re too busy running toward the water and dragging your blissfully naked boyfriend after you.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I say two shot I meant three shot
> 
> Sorry this is short

It's cold. Bulge-witherigly, globes-tightningly cold. 

That's the first thing you notice about the water, and by the time it's up to your knees you realize this is a huge mistake. Your internal monologue dissolves into a mantra of 'FUCK FUCK FUCK' that becomes 'FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK' when the first little wavelet hits the area between your legs. You hear a high-pitched yelp from behind you that tells you Dave is experiencing the same issue with his so-called romantic plan. 

Nope. Nope. Some of that icy cold motherfucking water just found its way into your most intimate areas and this ends now. 

"Dave-" 

Dave catches up but doesn't quite get the message that you've stopped, sending you sprawling forward. It would have been recoverable, should have been recoverable, were it not for the large, slimy stone your left foot lands on and promptly slips out from under you. 

"FU-" 

Boy, if you thought the water was cold before, then you have news for past you. It's fucking freezing when it's in your nostrils and making you cough and splutter and breathe more of it into your useless air-sacs. For a crushing second you're worried you might drown in three feet of water, naked, before Dave's hands pull you up into the merciful air. 

"FUCK YOU!" is the first thing you can articulate once the water is well and truly out of your lungs. 

"Yeah, you're welcome for me pulling you up and heimliching all of that water outta you," Dave replies, with his sass set to kill. 

"First of all, you ran into me, you clumsy moron, like I wasn't the only obstacle in the entire body of water," you say, while pressing your back against Dave to steal some of his warmth, "and second of all, I was talking to the fucking lake." 

"Damn, dude. You're starting vendettas with geographical features now? I'd better tell that hill you think blocks the view of the Meteor from my roof to watch the fuck out." 

"That hill has it coming, Dave, I'm going to sic Jade on it one of these days." you say, realizing that your feet have either gone numb or the water isn't quite as cold as you first thought. You wade a little further in to get out of the zone where the surface is lapping annoyingly at the top of your bulge-sheath, dragging Dave along with you. 

"Haha, yeah. One of these days, Karkat. One of these days, BAM, we'll get Jade to send it straight to the third moon of Omicron Persiei 8." 

You think you can hear Dave's teeth chattering. 

"Jesus fuck this is colder than I expected...maybe we should get out," he admits, putting his arm across his vulnerable human chest. 

"Fuck you, Dave, you're still half dry. I'm not going anywhere until I get to dunk your pretty, empty excuse for a think-pan under." 

You tow him along behind you like a struggling anchor until the water is up to your chest. That should be far enough. 

"Skinny dipping ain't a competitive sport, Karka-" Dave says, but he doesn't get any further because his mouth is busy being full of water.

When you finally let him splutter his way back to the surface, Dave makes a weak attempt at revenge before remembering that you can support his weight easily even out of the water. It's a relief when he gives up and just wraps his arms around your shoulders, clinging to you like a limpet as his legs seat themselves comfortably on your hips. Holding Dave close has always been a weakness of yours, something you're unreasonably proud to be allowed to do. There's a thrum starting in your chest, below the range of his hearing, because it almost hurts to be able to hold everything in the world that matters to you in your arms. It helps that he's warm and naked, even if the water is slowly numbing you from the extremities inward. 

"I always know I'm doing OK when you start vibrating," Dave says, pressing the words into your neck along with his freezing cold nose, "it's like I found the Karkat happy-switch or something. Like tickle-me-Karkat but you do the sweet rumbly bug thing instead of brian-meltingly high-pitched giggling." 

"That made even less sense than usual. Did I hold you under too long or something?" 

"Nah, man. You're just cool, that's all," Dave squeezes you tight around the shoulders and middle, pressing himself even closer, "and I mean that with the lowest level of irony possible. For someone with so little chill you're the fucking coolest person I know." 

Dave's voice is doing that far-off, dreamy-sounding thing that re-doubles the rumbling in your chest, entirely without permission. It would be embrassing as hell if there were any other trolls around to hear that strange, deep vocalization that just _screams_ pale but tends to slip out of you during almost all of your interactions with Dave, whether you're swinging and missing for black or euphorically diving into red territory. You're a mess. 

"Hey, Earth to Vantas," Dave gently slaps your shoulder, pulling your thoughts back to where they belong. "I'm using all of my best material here and you're not even listening." 

His teeth really are chattering now, although you can tell he's trying hard to suppress it. 

"You can tell them to me on land. I can't feel my fucking legs in this icy bullshit." 

"Wow, already? I didn't even do anything to you yet." 

Dave pulls back and fucking winks at you, like the stupid sexy idiot he is. You collapse both knees as a demonstration and take his smug ass down with you, which brings the dunking score to a satisfyingly even tie. 

When you both wade back to shore and glance at your matesprit shivering in the moonlight, there's a surprise you couldn't have anticipated in a billion sweeps. 

"Dave, where the jesus-shitting fuck did your bulge go?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> warning guys this is 90% descriptions of Dave

Dave’s face is an open book. It couldn’t be more obvious that he’s fucking with you, even though he think’s he’s being smooth. 

“Holy shit,” he says, deadpanning furiously while looking down at where his bulge used to be, “where the fuck did it go? Will you still want me even though I can’t give you the good lovin’ any more?” 

Dave winces and you hear a muttered “fuck” slip out as he drops to his knees in front of you, grasping both of your hands dramatically, having already forgotten that this beach has a liberal sprinkling of pebbles mixed in with the sand. 

“I can get a strap-on, Karkat, I promise your ass won’t go unfucked. Hell, I’ll promise that til the end of time.” 

You suppress an eyeroll. The things you do for love. 

“You are the worst at romance, Dave. Even if your bulge does miraculously grow back it’s not going anywhere near me. My nook is closed for business indefinitely.” 

Dave makes a brief attempt to look hurt before giving up and waggling his eyebrows instead. It’s been almost a sweep since he could successfully hold a straight face around you. 

“Really? You sure about that?” he asks, releasing your hands and sliding them onto your hips. His fingertips are like ice-cubes, but the smile on his face is warm. It disappears as he presses kisses to the top of your thigh, moving slowly toward the place where the sensitive skin of your bulge-sheathe begins. It's freezing cold with the breeze blowing across your damp skin, but your face is on fire. Dave, on the other hand, is shivering violently even as he moves his hands around to cup your ass. His skin is covered with the little bumps that mean he needs to get warm quickly. Plus, chattering teeth aren’t exactly sexy. 

“We’ll discuss it in the blanket. You look like a day-old lusus that got caught out in the rain.” 

“Hot,” he replies, grinning as you drag him into the pile of blankets, wrapping them around the two of you until you’re curled up together inside a shell of warmth. All of it is coming from you, unfortunately. Dave feels strangely delicate all of a sudden, pressed against your side with his arms encircling your chest, slowly warming as you run fingers through the wet hair at the nape of his neck. He’s extra clingy this evening, even for a romantic occasion, and he hasn’t said anything in way too long. 

“You OK?” you ask, feeling his breath catch a little as you speak. 

“Yeah, of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be? I mean I brought you all the way out here to this fucking incredible stretch of freezing cold pebbles that are the perfect shape to jab you in the ass, ruined all of the romantic shit I had planned, and then got so cold I had to introduce you to the principle of shrinkage. Just first class seduction on my part, really top-notch, I mean I should teach a fucking class on how to turn a seemingly idiot-proof rom-com setup into a nightmare that ends with your boyfriend asking where your dick went. I bet Egbert would write his name on the signup sheet so fast it’d catch on fire from the friction.” 

“Dave.” 

“Welcome to Dave Strider’s flying boner circus, sans boners. Please sit in the fucking dark and enjoy some ironic lift muzak while we try and wrangle some junk out of hiding for your entertainment.” 

“Dave. Relax, everything’s fine,” you say, rubbing his back gently. He’s worked himself up into a ball of tension, and that simply won’t do. Slowly, as you work at the knots underneath his shoulder blades, he starts to let it go. 

“Look, it’s sweet as fuck that you wanted to try some cliché romantic stuff, but you know I don’t _actually_ spend my every waking moment longing to be seduced with lavish bunches of plant genitalia and a million dancing candle flames, right?” 

Dave snorts into your neck. 

“Yeah you do,” he mutters, and you can tell he’s smiling again, “the inside of your head looks like the cover of a bargain-bin bodice-ripper. I’m pretty sure your mind’s eye has Vaseline smeared all over it.” 

You pinch his side, pleased that he’s back to his usual self. The blanket cocoon is getting nice and cosy now, and having a warm, happy Dave next to you is pretty much all you need in life. Especially if he’s naked. Dave grunts with surprise as you pull him into your lap, positioning him so that you can simultaneously rub your sheath against his crotch, press your face into his neck, and get two delicious handfuls of his ass. Warmth and movement against your bulge lets you know that wherever Dave’s own bulge went, it’s certainly back again now. 

“Looks like I coaxed your mammalian dick back out of hiding.” 

“Mmmph-” Dave doesn’t get a chance to say anything in reply because his mouth is busy with yours. As much as you enjoy his spiralling rambles about the merits of human physiology, Dave expresses affection a hundred times better without words. You soak it in, enjoying the sensation of his soft lips on yours and the tiny noises in the back of his throat that you know means “I love you”. Your hands explore his back, his ass, careful of your claws on his skin. The fact that he can let you do this when he knows you could tear him apart never stops being incredible. It should feel wrong to want him like this, emotionally vulnerable and physically consumed with need, because who the fuck knows what quadrant it would fit into. OK, maybe the inside of your head is in permanent soft-focus but you’re not about to admit that. 

Dave wraps his arms around your shoulders, pulling you close and pressing his chest against yours. His breath is warm on your skin, and you just about lose it when he starts tensing his butt and grinding against you. There’s a buzzing, clicking sound building in your chest, a strange combination of red and pale vocalisations and Dave laughs into your mouth when he notices. 

“Man,” he says, pulling back to look you in the eyes, “I am so fucking weak for that alien buzzy shit. I could listen to you make that noise for hours, it’s so hot. _You’re_ so hot. I wish I could see you properly right now.” 

He strokes your chest as he speaks; looking at you with that goddamned hungry look in his eyes, and that, embarrassingly enough, is what causes your bulge to make an appearance. It slips between the plates of your sheath with a swell of pleasure and a high, involuntary warble from your lips. Thank fuck there are no other trolls around because there’s no way they wouldn’t recognise that particular sound. Dave lets slip a moan of his own as your bulge wraps itself around his dick, long and low and loud, and you suddenly see the merits and possibilities of being miles from civilisation. For once, maybe you can get Dave to be as noisy during sex as he is the rest of the time. 

Your bulge wanders across his skin, stroking lower across his strange, fuzzy globes and behind them to the sensitive skin between his legs. Dave whimpers slightly, his body going taught against yours, and you smile as he starts mumbling a string of ‘fucks’ and ‘damns’ into your ear. He twitches in your arms as you brush against the edge of his nook, pulling away from you with a frown. 

“Nah, Karkat, this is meant to be all about _you_ , not me. I promised I’d, y’know...take care of you this time.” 

You shake your head, smiling at him in the moonlight. 

“You did all of this, planned all of this just for _me_. I don’t give a shit if you think you fucked anything up, you brought me somewhere really fucking pretty just so we could be alone. Let me be grateful, Dave.” 

Dave’s face is bright red, because even though he lives for praise he’s still not really used to receiving it. 

“C’mon dude, you don’t have to do that,” he says, fumbling to find your face in the darkness, and you cut him off with a kiss before he can start reeling off irrelevant arguments. His ass is yours for the taking this evening (for the first time around, at least), and you intend to take him somewhere special. 

“I want to,” you say, whisper-quiet into his ear, and feel the shiver that runs down his spine. He nods his approval into your neck, and you feel the clicking throb in your chest building at the prospect of taking him thoroughly to pieces. His skin is smooth against your bulge, his little hairs dragging slightly as your bulge runs teasing circles into the soft flesh behind his globes. From this angle, you can’t really reach much, and Dave doesn’t seem to mind when you tug him forward until his hipbones graze yours. He whimpers as your bulge pushes in slowly, feeling his muscles relax by degrees as you sheathe yourself inside him. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, Karkat, holy shit,” Dave mumbles, breathing sharp and rapid into your ear. He feels so good, so hot and tight and perfect, and you want him to know all of it. 

“Dave, you can be loud, want you to be loud, no-one but me to hear you…you’re so fucking incredible Dave, so fucking perfect…” 

“Oh godDAMN.” 

That’s the signal that you hit the jackpot, so to speak, your bulge curling and pressing into his prostate like as if Dave is about to start paying out an infinite stream of caegars. 

“ooOAAAH FUCK, fuck, ” Dave moans as you squeeze his ass with one hand and press up against his globes with the base of your bulge, “you’re gonna fucking…kill me.” 

Dave starts moving, tilting his hips so that you can reach further inside him, push himself to his limit with the widest part of you. Your legs hurt from supporting his weight and keeping him off the sandy surface of the blanket, but you couldn’t locate any fucks to give about that right now if you tried. His chest is tight and his breathing ragged in your face as he wraps his arms around your shoulders and groans into your ear. Your bulge is on fire as you thrust it into him, moving it in and out in the way you know makes him come undone. 

“Mmmph, Dave, louder…want to hear you scream...” 

“Holy shit,” he gasps, snort-laughing a little, “who gave you permission…to talk like that.” 

“Uh,” you say, because you can’t think of a single thing to say to that. Something has slammed the breaks onto your usual quick-wit, and you’re pretty sure it’s the fact your boyfriend is rocking breathlessly back and forth on your cock. You’re pretty sure he wasn’t actually expecting an answer when he arches his back, gripping your shoulders and making incoherent sounds of pleasure. 

Dave’s chest is right in your face so you mouth blindly, desperately at him, run your tongue over his strange mammalian “nipple” as you feel it brush against your lips. That drags a groan out of him that stokes the fire burning in your gut, and when you wrap a hand around his dick and start stroking deep and slow he finally loses the last of his inhibitions. 

“AAAAAHnn, KARKAT…” 

You’re gasping his name even as he screams yours because you could spend a thousand lifetimes with your bulge inside him, on the condition that you got to spend another thousand with his inside you. His nook clenches tight and perfect and you feel the warm splatter of his genetic material hitting you in the chest, and that never stops being so scandalously, indecently thrilling that you almost lose it yourself. 

Dave goes limp, boneless and shaking in your arms. You smother his face with kisses, bite down gently on the skin of his neck and add another mark that you know will be difficult to hide. 

“Oh man, I’m not gonna be able to think straight for a week,” he sighs, before chuckling under his breath and adding, “or walk straight, either.” 

“Mmmmmm,” you purr, nuzzling into his neck and moving your bulge lazily inside him. You’re still sitting comfortably close to your own orgasm, riding the wave of pheromones coming from Dave, but you don’t think you’re going to be able to reach it just from grinding slowly into him. That’s OK, though, or at least it doesn’t seem so important with him smiling love-drunk at you like you’re his entire universe. 

“Love you, man,” he says, and you twitch inside him because those are the words that set your ego aflame every single time. “Whoa, fuck, ngh.” Dave winces a little, and even though he’d almost certainly be happy for you to keep going, you know from experience that he’s way too oversensitive for that. When you pull out of him, though, Dave seems to have other ideas. He pushes you onto your back where the rocks jab you slightly through the blanket, and grins like a tiger. 

“Uh uh, dude, you’re not going anywhere until we get you off. The Strider express to orgasm city is leaving the station, and it only has one stop. All aboard, please stow your belongings safely because this train’s gonna be rocking.” 

You groan, covering your face with your hand to hide both the blush and the stupid smile plastered all over it. 

“Dave you’re the fucking worst. Don’t ever talk to me again.” 

“You shoulda thought about the consequences to my vocabulary before you fucked my brains out,” he replies, brushing your hand aside and kissing you so deeply you think your pump-biscuit might explode.

**Author's Note:**

> Remember when I said I was on hiatus? That's still a thing.  
> This is probably a two-shot.


End file.
